Just 100 Yards Away

I was the girl who sent myself a Valentine in the Penny Post Office when I was in 5th grade. The Student Council {or whatever it was called} fundraiser made possibly an entire NICKEL off of me because I think I flew right past sending myself a leftover store bought Valentine from the stash of years gone by and sent myself an actual GIFT, which, logically, cost more.

And so it was that while I sat in Mr. Moloch's science class {a class I passed, I'm positive, on pity alone} the student council officer cracked open the door and delivered the treasures of the Penny Post Office that day. I peered from my seat in the back row, waiting for my name to be called.

I'm not sure who I signed the gift from...nor who I thought I'd explain to my friends {who knew every student in the upper class region of that school} sent this gift to me, but in typical fashion, no one even noticed I received mail...let alone a coveted package...so I was left to stare at whatever I'd concocted to myself...and feel incredibly stupid.

And hopeless.

Hopeless that the Penny Post, the US Post or any other Post would bring me a token of love on Valentine's Day...ever.

{Funny that probably 100 yards away in a portable classroom sat a 4th grader with killer dimples and a contagious smile who would one day...}

So I went to high school and watched the main office littered with balloons and flowers and stuffed animals every year.

And one year one of them came to me. From one of my girlfriends who sent it as a joke from a guy and I spent the rest of the year being terrified he would find out she'd done it.

And then college...where the school post office {though slightly more pricey than a penny} filled up with gifts galore and skinny students paraded around campus gripping onto the arms of their loves so tightly...I'm sure circulation ceased.

And then I began working and every now and then the door to the office would open and a dazed looking delivery person would spin slowly around gripping a gorgeous bouquet, and I'd wonder.... Did I maybe somewhere have some secret admirer and those could be for...

"Do you know where the Business Office is?"

I'd swallow hard and point next door and watch the flowers disappear...

...And every year I'd cling to the things that made the day bearable. Gifts for my girlfriends or the kiddos that call me aunt or a little get together with some other single pals or sometimes even just a heart-shaped pizza and a movie while sitting home alone. And yet that ache settled deep to just...belong. To belong without sending myself a gift. Without being the subject of a funny joke's-on-you prank. Without being a direction-giver.

Ryan Shaffer, I don't care a single thing about what I get or don't get today. Today I belong. And that is the greatest possible gift you could give me.

To wake up and see your eyes looking into mine even in the Keurig-lit blue darkness of our room is a gift. To hear you ask, as you always do, for me to please drive carefully because I'm carrying precious cargo, is a gift. To know that at some point during the day, I'll get a text that says "Sure miss you today," is a gift. To know that I get to come home to a bright smile and a hand that holds mine while we pray over dinner, is a gift.

You are the Valentine I never knew existed in real life. You are the sparkle in my day. You bring me so much joy.

And to think...the whole time...you were 100 yards away.